


Save A Life

by shittershutter



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Cablepool - Freeform, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: Nate huffs dismissively and stares down the burning city, its broken shapes radiating much less heat than Wade's limp body does. The man is burning with an intensity of a small asteroid entering the atmosphere under his hands and he can't lie, while it's not even remotely sexual, it feels intimate.





	Save A Life

**Author's Note:**

> * Unbetad. I'm very sorry. 
> 
> No one dies this time. At all. I promise.

When the helicopter arrives to evacuate them after the mission and they are safely up in the air, Nate presses both palms, flesh one first, metal one on top of it to the gaping wound running across the man's midsection and keeps them there as the blood gushes out.

He can feel the heavy heartbeat pounding through both of their bodies, a drowsy beat that slows down, pushing out more and more red liquid with each contraction of the muscle. 

"Admit it," Wade croaks, opening one eye to look at him. "It does make you hard a little."

He huffs dismissively and stares down the burning city, its broken shapes radiating much less heat than Wade's limp body does. The man is burning with an intensity of a small asteroid entering the atmosphere under his hands and he can't lie, while it's not even remotely sexual, it feels intimate. 

Holding someone's life in his hands does. It's not like in his line of work he's never done it before, both to friends and enemies, feeling their last breaths on his face, their souls brushing past his shoulder on their way out. But it's different with Wade, adds an extra layer of sensuality to the ritual as old as the universe itself. The ritual of not dying alone. 

Wade shifts and circles the older man's wrists with his shaky fingers. 

"Relax, you old creep. I've done it before."

He strokes his thumbs along Nate's pulse points then, humming. 

"Don't," Nate whispers before he manages to catch it. For a moment it feels like the body under his hands goes rigid and as he prepares himself for that lukewarm last breath on his cheek, Wade lets out a drawn-out raspy laugh, so hot it feels like it can burn the flesh off Nate's skull. 

"Aha!" he gives the older man's jaw a quick sharp bite and gets his elbows under himself. 

Nate notices then that while all the blood and possibly, most likely guts are still squishy under his palms, the blood no longer pours endlessly between his fingers. 

"You saved my life," Wade tells him. "My beautiful knight, I'd for sure die without you. Again."

He crawls from under Nate and into the cockpit, still getting a hold of his freshly fused bones, leaving the older man to sit with his legs hanging into the fiery abyss as he smiles uninterrupted looking at his hands, one human and one that pretends to be. The hands that caught the life in them and managed to hold onto it before it fled. 

"For someone who tortures people for a living, you are a bit too vanilla for my own personal preferences, I have to admit," Wade tells him a few hours later after they break the shower and are slowly working on at least bending their unbreakable bed frame. 

"Am I at work?" Nate growls, the disease-stricken eye fixed on Wade's forehead like a red dot sight.

Wade looks down their bodies, a bizarre mix of textures pressed tightly together, then back up, bewildered. "Baby, you better be."

He's not a professional in the field at hand, not at all, but he sure as fuck is a competent amateur and he proves just that by grabbing Wade by the hips and turning him around, pillows flying. 

It's smooth and technically flawless, mainly because Wade doesn't fight him at all. Their walls and floors are a topography of dents of many shapes and sizes from all the times Wade did. The winner gets the dick and the younger man is all for a good participation trophy at the very least.

This time he just rolls with the momentum and then digs his hands and knees into the mattress and the shape of him, still and perfect in its build, scars deepened by the shadows makes Nate's mouth dry. 

"You standing still for a chance does make me hard," he confesses under his breath. It's a compliment -- Wade is terrible at accepting those -- but dip it in enough humiliation and it'll slide right into his brain, unnoticed. 

He lowers his head and kisses the man's tailbone, lips first, teeth and tongue later, sucks the skin red and slides his mouth through the roughness until he gets to where Wade's soft. 

He fucks him with the tongue like he would, like he's going to with his dick, and the hot sticky flesh pulsates around him in resonance with Wade's heartbeat, alive. 

It's an echo of his earlier memory of the evening, the one he has to shake off because it's not the blood he wants out of Wade. His sweat and his come he'll take all over himself, in copious amounts. 

Wade is quiet, so quiet he can't even hear him breathe behind his own loud wet mouth working and his metal joints rattling as he massages his trembling thigh. 

The secret about Wade abruptly shutting up is the more often he does the more content he feels. It's a good thing, something to be proud about. 

Nate is a man with a big dick and a bigger gun, he allows himself to be proud on occasion. 

Then Wade explodes through silence, profanities shaking the air around them, not quite making sense and he nearly breaks Nate's face in two with his pelvis as he buckles back uncontrollably.

He falls face first into the mattress but his ass is still up like it's stuck and when Nate's hand brushes his lower belly, it comes back sticky. 

Nate wipes his mouth as he's still cursed to the hell and back, bombarded with the references he doesn't get, the metaphors and epithets crashing against his temples -- and the less of them he gets the more of a phenomenal job he just did, good for him. 

Then a hand shoots up from the sheet, reaching out to him blindly and more than anything in the world he'd prefer for it to be the other arm so he could reach back with his human one. But alas, the man has to work with what he's given, so he raises his virus-ridden limb for Wade to take. 

He fucks the younger man like that, hands linked, and when Wade pushes his face into the open mechanical palm, he groans. To his hardened ears, it sounds pathetic and elated at the same time, that sound. 

The sound that the ugliest animal from the extinct species of the pre-historic times probably made when it found its mate, the last one on the entire planet.

He pounds and pushes until his hips hurt and when he comes, it's quiet, too. He stops abruptly and covers Wade's body with his, chest to back, both flesh and metal humming as his dick is squeezed dry by the man's convulsing body. Then Wade collapses bringing them both down and whole ten minutes pass before he speaks again. 

"You saved my life to destroy me," he slurs, an accusing finger drumming against the metal of Nate's chest, right where his human heart beats underneath. 

Nate scoffs into the ceiling. This is the compliment he's going to have to take.


End file.
